


tell me what you need

by disgruntledkittenface



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Louis, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Photographer Harry, Side Ziall, coffee shop AU, harry’s not creepy he’s quirky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 02:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13626849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntledkittenface/pseuds/disgruntledkittenface
Summary: “And a fresh cherry?” he asks, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. He waits as Louis stares him down, his brow furrowing.“No? What the fuck,” Louis rasps, looking bewildered.coffeeshop AU based on this iconictumblr post.





	tell me what you need

**Author's Note:**

> Hearts and thank you’s to the friends who looked this over for me. Title is from Gone Gone Gone by Phillip Phillips because I’ve always thought that “Like a drum my heart never stops beating for you” is about me and coffee.

“Fuck, Haz,” Niall grumbles, pulling his black cardigan closer to his body, “I’m fucking freezing, never gonna be warm again.”

Harry laughs as he pulls off his aviators, the brim on his fedora enough to keep the sun out of his eyes as they approach the small coffee shop close to campus. He stops abruptly when he sees the Look that Niall is shooting him.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says contritely, “and I really am grateful to you for helping out with my final project. Seriously, thank you so much, man.”

“Dunno why it had to be at the crack of dawn,” Niall mutters, looking up to see Harry open his mouth, about to protest. “No! No, if you say the words ‘golden hour’ one more time, I swear to god.”

“Okay, okay,” Harry replies, holding his hands up in surrender. “I mean, it was, but okay.”

Niall shoves at his shoulder just as they reach the door, smiling now that they’re closer to caffeine and his–

“Say, what is Zayn nowadays, Ni?” Harry asks. “Friend? Friend with benefits? Boyf–”

“I don’t like labels, Harry,” Niall interrupts, waggling his fingers at the slim, dark-haired barista as they walk in. He skips ahead, calling back, “Shut up, you’re buying!”

Harry catches up to Niall at the counter, giving Zayn at the bar a small wave, just about to say hello when a literal angel walks out of the back room. Harry’s mouth dries up and his hand stills mid-wave. Since when do angels work at his coffee shop? Looking soft and cozy as fuck in Adidas sweatshirts with gray beanies, oh _no._

“Guys, this is Louis,” Zayn says, waving a hand to the angel who’s now standing by the register, yawning adorably. (God, Harry is so fucked.) “He’s new to the morning shift, be kind.”

“That sucks,” Niall winces in sympathy. “I hate mornings, it’s like the worst time of my life.”

“Yeah, how are you even awake right now, Niall?” Zayn asks. “Harry’s always here about now, but I’ve never seen you up and about before noon.”

Harry realizes that he’s been staring at the angel – Louis apparently, lovely name for an angel – when Louis’ sleepy gaze goes from Niall to him. He quickly drops his hand and averts his eyes. God, he’s such an idiot.

“Harry, here,” Niall answers, jerking a hand toward Harry, “needed a model for his photography final. Have you heard, Zayn, I’m a model now, which apparently means getting up at the crack of dawn.”

He turns to Harry, preemptively shaking a finger at him. “Don’t even think about it, not one word.”

Harry glances over to Louis, who’s looking at him curiously now, and feels a sudden burst of bravery. He holds up the camera slung over his shoulder and mouths, “Golden hour,” at him and Louis nods, seemingly understanding.

“Anyway,” Niall drawls out as he glances from Louis to Harry and back, “I’m fucking freezing, I’m not like Harry here, he’s only happy when his tits are out, so can I have a sea salt caramel mocha, extra hot?”

Louis grabs a paper cup and a sharpie, scrawling Niall’s order on the cup and passing it to Zayn. He looks up at Harry expectantly, and Harry is suddenly very aware of the thin blouse he’s unbuttoned about halfway to show off his tattoos and cross necklace.

“Um,” he starts hesitantly, wilting under Louis’ gaze, knowing he has an audience. “Can I have, um, a semi-iced–”

Just then the sun hits a longer piece of Louis’ hair that’s fallen from his beanie.

“Um, uh, half caramel,” Harry stutters, stopped in his figurative tracks at the soft caramel brown hair hanging in front of Louis’ face. “Um, and half vanilla…”

The fuck is he doing? He’s never ordered flavored syrups by halves before, what the fuck.

“Decaf latte,” Harry continues in a strangled voice, baffled by the words coming out of his mouth. Who orders decaf coffee at 7:30 in the morning? “With, um, no foam…”

Because it’s semi-iced, you absolute fuck, why would there be foam?

“Using, um, fresh almond milk…”

At this point, Zayn has stopped making Niall’s drink and is leaning against the bar counter, arms crossed, smirking. He’s been working mornings here all semester and knows this isn’t even close to Harry’s regular order. Louis glances up at the menu board, then turns back to Harry squinting, hand with sharpie still poised over the plastic cup he’d grabbed but no longer checking boxes or writing Harry’s rambling instructions on it.

“With, um, a small swirl of whipped cream,” Harry continues, desperate to stop talking, stop talking, _oh my god,_ stop fucking talking. “Covered in um… a pinch of cinnamon?”

Louis is staring at Harry, his lovely curved eyebrows raised practically up to his beanie, and Harry feels his cheeks heat up, so embarrassed but somehow still pleased to be the focus of this gorgeous boy’s intense focus. Not wanting to lose it, he scrambles for something to finish off his already ridiculous order.

“And a fresh cherry?” he asks, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. He waits as Louis stares him down, his brow furrowing.

“No? What the fuck,” Louis rasps, looking bewildered.

And, oh. Harry was already fucked, had been from the moment Louis walked out, but that voice. Light, kind of scratchy in a way Harry was sure wasn’t just because of the early hour. Oh, god. Harry’s dimly aware of Zayn and Niall cracking up at his misfortune, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Louis’ soft blue eyes, framed by the longest lashes Harry’s ever seen on a guy.

“Iced latte,” Louis declares, practically stabbing the buttons on the register. “Anything to eat?”

“Cherry danish!” Niall exclaims. He glances over at Harry and takes pity on him, adding, “and a butter croissant for my friend here. He’s buying.”

“You want it for here or carry out?” Louis asks, punching the register buttons a bit more lightly now.

“Oh, for here,” Niall says, patting Harry on the back. “Definitely for here. I’ll go grab that table by the window, Haz.”

Zayn busies himself at the bar, stealthily watching as Niall walks away and Harry’s pretty sure he’s not imagining the swing in Niall’s step. He looks back to Louis sheepishly, reaching for his wallet.

“It’ll be $14 even,” Louis says softly, squinting at Harry again like he’s not quite sure what to make of him.

Harry tries to smile at him, hoping to reassure Louis that he’s not a lunatic, but he’s not sure how well it works as he hands over his card. He feels around in his jeans pocket for cash for a tip, forgetting this pair, like most of his, are really too tight to carry much in his pockets. His cheeks flush again as he takes his card back from Louis, nodding and then doing some kind of awkward two-finger salute before slowly backing away. He knocks into a chair behind him and turns quickly to right it, and himself. He makes his way slowly to the table, eyes on the ground, desperately wishing it would open up and swallow him.

He sinks into the chair opposite Niall as his friend cackles at him, setting his camera carefully on the table before hissing, “Shut up! Jesus, Niall.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Niall laughs, not looking sorry at all. “You usually have pretty good game but that shit was hilarious.”

Harry glares at the table as if it’s personally responsible for this, cheeks burning. “Niall, he’s just… fuck off, don’t _look,_ he’s fucking gorgeous and I was completely unprepared, he took me by surprise, okay?”

Niall laughs again, patting the hand Harry’s rested on the table. “Cheer up, Haz. He’s working mornings now, you’ll get plenty of opportunities to woo him.”

At that Harry gives up and tries to bang his forehead against the table, forgetting his fedora. He hears Zayn snicker at him from across the shop, and turns to stare resolutely out the window as Niall chatters on about something, his music theory class, Harry thinks. After a few minutes, Zayn walks over with a tray and sets their order down.

Harry looks over and sees Niall already halfway through his danish, his steaming mocha next to his plate. His mouth starts watering a little at the sight of his own croissant, and then he sees it. Right by his elbow is a tall glass with light brown coffee, plenty of ice, and whipped cream. Whipped cream _with a cherry on top._ And a pink fucking straw, which Harry didn’t even know they had here or else he’d have been requesting one every day.

He looks over to the counter, where Louis is looking down, smiling at the floor. Harry gapes at him and then Louis looks up and winks right at him. Harry sits back in chair, just barely managing not to clutch his chest.

He looks over to Niall and Zayn, who are both grinning at him.

“He winked at me,” Harry says, delighting in his reversal of fortune. “He fucking winked.”

They both start clapping and Harry is too happy to shush them. He looks back over at Louis, who rolls his eyes but smiles at Harry before turning to another customer. Zayn says goodbye, although Harry barely hears him, and walks back to make the drink orders that Louis is taking. Harry takes a sip from his pink straw, willing Louis to look over with all his might, and sucks harder on the straw when he finally does, hoping Louis can read the dirty thoughts running through his mind.

Whipped cream. A cherry on top. Pink straw. Harry’s back in the game.

“Alright, pervert,” Niall crudely interrupts his thoughts, “hurry up and finish, you’re supposed to drive me over to the fine arts building, remember?”

Harry turns back to his friend and picks up his croissant. He’s not bothered, he feels like nothing could ever bother him again.

That is, until, it’s time to go. He looks longingly over at Louis, in the middle of a rush of customers, and feels hesitant to leave, like this connection they have is fragile. He doesn’t want to break it.

“C’mon, Haz,” Niall says, literally pulling him toward the door. “You’ll see him tomorrow. You can get another cherry then.”

Harry manages to catch Louis’ eye just before they walk out the door and gets a small smile in exchange for his. He leaves feeling a bit lighter.

*

The next morning, Harry stands on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop, psyching himself up to go in. He smooths over his faded t-shirt, fingers catching on the safety pins holding the fabric together at a tear. Panicking a little, he second guesses choosing his favorite t-shirt for luck; what if Louis thinks he’s a slob?

It had taken him hours to choose this shirt last night, his entire wardrobe strewn around his room. Should he try to match Louis’ cozy aesthetic and go with his Randy’s Donut hoodie? Or would it look less like he was trying if he chose another half-unbuttoned blouse? If he went blouse, floral? Hawaiian? Sheer? It was exhausting trying not to try too hard. He’d finally landed on the Rolling Stones tee as a happy medium while his roommate mocked him relentlessly.

Nick had found Louis on Instagram in seconds, having only “Louis” and “coffee shop” to go on. Harry hadn’t wanted to stalk Louis’ social media before managing to string two sentences together properly in front of him, but it was hard to ignore the photos of Louis with an enormous fluffy black dog, Louis beaming at small kids, maybe siblings? And his feet, a lot of photos of just his socks and shoes, which Harry found weirdly endearing.

“What’s with all the sad selfies?” Nick had remarked snarkily, pointing at his phone. “There’s one, there, there, there.”

Harry had bristled and gone back to his clothes dilemma, wishing for better friends.

On the sidewalk, Harry suddenly realizes they might be able to see him from inside. He runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath, knowing it’s too late to pick another outfit. Or another roommate. He walks in the coffee shop, trying to appear calm while his heart threatens to beat out of his chest.

Zayn and Louis are behind the counter chatting quietly and they both look up as Harry approaches. Zayn grins and heads toward the back room, and Harry feels panicked again – does Zayn just not want to witness his embarrassment two days in a row? Did Louis ask him to leave them alone? His mind races as he reaches the counter and he stands there dumbly for a few seconds.

“What’ll it be today, Curly?” Louis asks, smirking. “Another semi-iced half caramel, half vanilla decaf latte, no foam, with fresh almond milk, and whipped cream, pinch of cinnamon and cherry on top?”

He remembered, Harry thinks to himself wildly. He remembered, how the fuck did he remember all that?

“Iced latte!” Harry shouts at him. “Sorry, I mean… iced latte, please.”

Louis raises his eyebrows, punching the order in and grabbing a plastic cup. “Iced latte, huh? What about all that from yesterday? Or did I convince you the error of your ways?”

“I, um,” Harry says bashfully. “I actually always get an iced latte. All the other stuff…”

“Yeah?” Louis prompts. “All the other stuff what?”

Harry blushes, rubbing the back of neck with his hand. He forces himself to meet Louis’ eye and says in a rush, “All the other stuff was because I ramble when I get nervous and you’re so gorgeous and you looked so cozy and soft and your hair is literally the color of caramel and your cheekbones could cut glass, and I was so nervous that I just kept talking and I couldn’t stop, and I’m so sorry, just because you’re in the service industry does not mean it’s part of your job to deal with creepy customers hitting on you, but I swear, I know I stared a lot yesterday but I’m not creepy, not like that kind of creepy, you can ask Zayn, I swear, and I’ve never ordered coffee like that in my life, probably doesn’t even count as coffee even, half this and semi that, but I really like you, it’s not just you’re gorgeous even though you are but your smile and the pink straw and the way you tease me it doesn’t feel like you’re laughing at me, and I just really, really want to take you out sometime maybe?”

“I’d like that too,” Louis says, grinning. “And for the record, Curly, you’re not creepy. You’re more like… quirky. I like quirky.”

Harry grins back at him, and that’s how Zayn finds them when he emerges from the back room. “Alright, guys?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies, eyes still locked on Louis. “Alright.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! <3
> 
> here's the [ tumblr post](https://disgruntledkittenface.tumblr.com/post/171794778247/tell-me-what-you-need-by-disgruntledkittenface) to share if you want:)


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